A Terrible Day That Deserves No Name
by Mr.Parodious
Summary: "Why does this stuff happen to me? Why me to begin with, anyways?As if being... ah..ah.. AHCHOO! *sniff* sick wasn't bad enough."  F*** YEAH, CHAPTER FOUR IS UP AND RUNNING!1!
1. Morning, dude

… **Have any of you guys noticed that Xemnas is MANSEX rearranged? Just noticing…Anyways, Regular Show and all related material are owned by J.G. Quintel and Cartoon Network, yadda yadda yadda, enjoy the show.**

It was a pretty typical morning in the public park. Benson was keeping maintenance on his golf cart while Skips was working on its engine. Pops was still asleep dreaming dreams of that of a small child would, and lord knows where Muscle Man and High-Five Ghost have gotten themselves into. Mordecai was sound asleep in his comfy bed while Rigby surprisingly slept even more comfortably on that trampoline he uses as a bed.

The sun's rays became stronger and shone into the boys' room. Mordecai soon rose up from his bed, gave off a loud yawn and was ready for whatever this day was going to throw at him. (Especially considering his and his raccoon friend's daily misadventures.) "Morning, Rigby." The blue jay said in a not too cheery, but not too drowsy tone. However, his raccoon friend was not willing to wake up, not just yet. "Dude, c'mon it's time for breakfast." Mordecai continued trying to wake his friend even by nudging him a bit, and Rigby still continued to sleep peacefully. "Wow man, sometimes I wonder why we're even friends." The blue jay thought to himself considering all of his and his friend's complete opposites. Just last night, Mordecai was amazed at Rigby's ability to stay up late and not even feel the least bit tired as if he was nocturnal or something. Mordecai finally gives up and says quietly, "Alright dude, you win. But don't start crying after I eat your breakfast." After uttering these words, an idea lit up in the blue jay's mind like a light-bulb would in a dark closet.

Mordecai walked down the stairs with a slight grin of sheer confidence knowing that this plan wouldn't fail. He put a couple of frozen waffles in the toaster and in an instant, they were ready. He then put them down on a plate, dowsed them with some maple syrup, and went into the storage room. He found a tall, rotary fan, plugged it in to the nearest socket, and placed the fan in front of his room. After turning the fan on, the blue jay then placed the tray of waffles in front of the fan and let the scent of waffles go in the room. The scent was picked up in an instant by the sleeping raccoon, and as if he were sleepwalking, he walked down to the kitchen with his eyes tight shut following the scrumptious scent to its origin.

Once Rigby got to the kitchen, he let out a yawn and sat down in one of the chairs near the kitchen table. "'Bout time you woke up, Sleeping Beauty." Mordecai taunted towards his half asleep friend. "I had to make breakfast and everything just to get you awake." He said while serving himself a bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee made earlier in the morning. "It was SO much work for a guy like me. So I better wake up to a stack of pancakes tomorrow, got it?" The blue jay jokingly scolded to his friend. Rigby didn't reply seeing how he was almost still asleep. Mordecai's friendly smile suddenly drooped down to a disappointed frown. "Man, you're no fun in the morning, Rigby. It's like trying to tell a joke to a brick wall. Funny thing is that you got just as much intelligence as one." Mordecai said hoping to get at least a response from his zombie-like friend, only to find him snoring on the table. "Aw, c'mon dude, stay awake for at least a second." the blue jay hastily responded while snapping his wing-like fingers in the sleeping raccoon's face. "Huh, wha- oh, hey Mordecai." Rigby responded after being awakened by his tall blue jay friend. "Wow, waffles, I haven't had these in a while. Hey Mordecai, do you mind getting me a cup of coffee?" The raccoon asked in a very drowsy tone. "Yeah, Rigby.. I guess..." Mordecai replied in a very disappointed tone while getting his friend a cup of coffee. If he remembered correctly, Rigby liked his coffee black with lots of sugar. "Wow" Mordecai thought to himself "I AM right, we are complete opposites." Seeing as how he likes his coffee with half and half with little or no sugar. As the blue jay set down the coffee, he was surprised to see Rigby not wolfing down his waffles as he usually would. He was so sleepy that he wasn't in any rush whatsoever, and was actually taking his time to chew and taste the waffles in front of him. "Dude, are you sick or something?" asked Mordecai with a sincere tone. "Oh? Oh um.. no actually. I just want to enjoy my waffles" the raccoon replied with the same sincere tone his blue jay buddy asked with. As he took sips of his coffee, Rigby soon began to wake up a bit more after every sip. He still seemed very tired. After a couple of sips of joe, he finally was able to speak with his eyes at least half open.

"Jeez man, what time is it anyways?" the raccoon asked while letting out another yawn. Mordecai checked the microwave's digital clock. "It's ten-o-clock in the morning. Pretty early in your standards, I presume?" "WAY too early, dude." Rigby replied in that drowsy tone he always had in the morning. "Couldn't you have just told Benson to wait a couple of minutes before we got started on work?" "Oh Rigby," Mordecai slyly replied, " even a third grader could connect these oh-so-obvious clues. Think about it: if Benson did let us rest up a few more minutes, why would I be up now? C'mon man, at least TRY to use that little pea brain of yours." Mordecai received no response from his pal. The blue jay began to feel a little bit like a jerk. "Hey man, you know I'm just messing with you, right? I don't really mean all those things I say" Mordecai then realized that his raccoon friend didn't respond not because he felt insulted, rather he fell asleep again, snoring as usual. "Dude! C'mon, I even put five spoonfuls of sugar in your coffee! How does THAT not wake you up?" Mordecai said in an irritated fashion while snapping his fingers in front of his snoring buddy yet again. "Huh, wha- oh, sorry Mordecai. I'm just really not used to waking up this early in the morning." Rigby replied in an even drowsier tone than before.

"So, what do we have to do today?" the sleepy raccoon asked while eating a bit more of his waffles. "Let's see…" Mordecai pondered on what today's activities were, "We have to wash our dishes first, then help Skips out with changing lawnmower's oil, polish the wooden floor, aaaaannd, oh, wait, we have to tend to some of the younger trees today. Benson told us some of the poles sustaining the trees were getting loose or rusty. There's some newer poles in the garage we have to use to replace the older ones. That's about it for today." Just by hearing that list, Rigby already felt tired enough to go back to sleep. "Man, when will Benson give us a break?" "Um, dude, I don't know if you noticed, but this really isn't so much to do compared with other days. I think we can get this done in less than three hours. How's that sound?" Mordecai asked while finishing his bowl of cereal. "…I guess it's fine…" the drowsy raccoon lazily responded. "Alright dude, hey are you done with those waffles?" Mordecai asked noticing that Rigby left half of one of his waffles on his tray. The raccoon shook his head and then continued enjoying his breakfast. Once he was done, his blue jay buddy told him not to worry about the dishes, that he'll handle them. "Just go meet up with Skips and start working on the lawnmower." "And if I fall asleep again?" Rigby replied with a very worried tone to Mordecai's surprise. "Relax Rigby, you'll feel better later on in the day. I'll meet you up with Skips, okay?" And with that, Rigby's worries were easily calmed. "Alright, dude, meet you there." Rigby responded letting out another yawn. As he commenced walking out of the kitchen, Mordecai then began to wash the used dishes. "Oh, and Mordecai…" Rigby said while catching his friend off guard. Mordecai then turned around seeing his raccoon pal holding on to the doorway with a droopy looking frown and his eyes still half opened. "…Thanks for the waffles" Mordecai was yet again surprised with his friend's unusual attitude, and he even blushed a bit without his pal noticing. If he didn't know any better, the blue jay would suggest that his pal caught a serious case of the flu. "…Yeah, yeah, just go meet up with Skips, okay?" The blue jay hastily responded to his out-of-usual-mood friend. "Okay, see you there." Rigby replied with a small grin of genuine appreciation as he left the house. Mordecai stopped and thought about his friend's general weirdness. "Stupid Rigby…" he thought to himself still feeling a bit embarrassed that his pal was acting so chummy towards him. After he finished with the dishes, he set off to the garage to help Skips and Rigby out with the lawnmower like he said he would. "I can already tell today's going to be a really weird day…"

**So tell me what you guys think. Leave a review; add a suggestion; point out a flaw, anything. I WILL be introducing an OC in the later chapters and she will have a crush on Rigby, but trust me when I say this… it will NOT come out like you would think an OC X canon character relationship would work out. Check back next time and keep reading. See ya.**

**Mr. Parodious**

**P.S: Try reading this chapter while playing Roxas' Twilight Town theme in the background. If you do, leave in your review if it helps set the mood for this chapter.**


	2. Daily Thoughts

**` Hey dudes, Mr. Parodious here. Now because I'm an impatient little brat, I decided to start writing up more chapters to this story. I'd like to give my personal thanks to the people who took the time to read the first chapter, and even write up a review for it. I'll try to make as many corrections to this story to make it an enjoyable, readable, and most of all: humorous story. I will be changing the rating of the story to a "T" rating to suit the content of the original show. Again, Regular Show and all related material are rightfully owned by J.G. Quintell, Cartoon Network, and all that good stuff. Enjoy the show.**

A couple of minutes before our blue jay and raccoon duo woke up, their manager and employer, an anamorphic gumball machine named Benson, was working with one of his most trusted employees, a jean wearing anamorphic yeti named Skips. The public park's golf cart was having some issues, so Benson decided to look under it's hood to find the source of the problem. He wasn't the kind of person who liked getting his hands dirty doing minuscule tasks, so he sought after a job that paid enough while not having him do too much physical activity. After meeting with Pops, the eccentric lollipop-headed owner and patron of the public park, and getting to know about his naïveté personality, Benson felt that an opportunity was just begging to be realized.

Thus, he finds himself where he is today, manager of the public park getting a more-than-average pay without having to do any strenuous work. Of course he had to get someone to do the dirty work; that's where Skips comes in. Skips is a good friend of Benson. They knew each other back all the way from college days. He was always considered the "brawn" to Benson's brain, but that wasn't entirely true. Skips could always find a way to fix any sort of problem, even those that aren't his. He seems to know almost everything about everyone as if he was around for a really long time. Benson offered the yeti a job at the park after he became manager, and now he's getting a roof over his head and a well earned pay in exchange for a hard day's night. Along with a couple of extra trees, Skips brought with him a golf cart that the staff of the park would use to this day. Benson was running short on cash due to some "property damage", so he wasn't willing to fork over more money just to get a new cart if the old one was working just fine.

"Alright let's see..." the gumball machine stated while checking off a couple of things from a list. "There's nothing wrong with the muffler, every thing's fine with the gas tank, I just got the oil changed a week ago, and the engine seems to be..." Before he could finish his statement,

A black liquid came gushing into the gumball machine's face. "AHH! STUPID PIECE OF JUNK!" He exclaimed while vigorously trying to rub the liquid off of his face. The anti-freeze cap was removed after a test drive . "Towel?" Skips asked while holding up a piece of cloth. Benson took the cloth and began wiping his face with it. "Thanks, Skips" Benson said in an aggravated tone. "You shouldn't have opened the anti-freeze pipe right after driving. I forgots to mention that. My bad." Skips told his boss in that gruff voice he had. Benson replied, "No, no. It's alright. Just warn me next time, I'm not that much of an expert on cars as you are," The yeti nodded, understanding he made a minor mistake, but he'll make sure not to do it again, "Anyways, I guess there was nothing wrong with the cart at all. It just needed to take more time to start up. By the way, Skips; do you have any more chores to do?" Benson queried him. Skips nodded his head yes. "It's nothing' though. It's just a simple oil change for the lawnmower. Mordecai and Rigby were suppose to help out though. Where are they?" "They're probably sleeping in or doing something stupid as usual." the gumball machine disgustingly responded. "I'm so sick of having to go through all the crap they start. Honestly, why I haven't fired them is mystery that no one can solve." "And yet they're still sleeping in that room, eating your food from the fridge, and will probably cause another insane out-of-the-norm situation that we have to clean up." Skips said in a both serious and joking tone. "Ha ha, very funny. You should become a comedian." Benson replied sarcastically. "You better get to that, Skips." The yeti nodded yes while giving a grunt of confirmation.

As he packed his tools in his toolbox, Skips was thinking about something that's been bothering him for quite a while. It was back in his college days when he met a young high school senior. She came fro a wealthy family and was quite content, if not completely satisfied with her life. She had few friends, but they were very close with her. This senior reminded him a lot of his fellow workmates, Mordecai and Rigby, because of all the weirdness she would bring with her. Of course, she didn't release a digital diablos ex machine from an old video game, caused the park to get audited, summon the almighty Snowballs the Ice Monster, and almost get him KILLED, on his birthday none the less. But she did have this strange attitude towards people, especially her friends, that would just fling them in the most absurd situations like flying high in the sky with a bunch of helium balloons, or freezing an entire living room because she felt it was "too hot in here." Unfortunately for him, Skips was caught up in some of these situations and, like he currently does, had to fix them in an even more absurd fashion. It was tiring, and what was even worse is that the girl mentioned something about going to college, and with the money her family had, it could be possible. Even though he was sure that they wouldn't cross paths again, Skips decided to trade numbers with her just in case anything went wrong. It's been a good four years now, and the yeti has not been in contact with the now college student. She didn't even call him for something as stupid as a funny photo, or a personal story. Nothing. "What happened to her," Skips asks himself. "Has she gotten in any trouble? Is she even studying college, and who are the poor souls that are getting themselves in those situations?"

"SKIPS!" The yeti lost his train of thought as he was loudly interrupted by his temperamental employer, "Skips, you're putting my clipboard in your toolbox." The gumball machine pointed out to the pensive yeti. Skips looked down and saw the clipboard in the toolbox. He must have swiped it while he was on his daily thinking hour. Feeling a tad bit embarrassed, Skips handed back the clipboard to the gumball machine as he snatched it back as if it were a crisp dollar bill. "Heh, eh, my bad, Benson" Skips told his boss with his rough-as-nails voice with a hint of embarrassment, Benson later replied, "It's alright Skips. Just get started on that lawnmower. I gotta go check my email. Make sure those nitwits, Mordecai and Rigby, don't touch anything, OK?" Skips responded with a grunt of confirmation. As the gumball machine walked towards the house, he turned around and asked, "Hey Skips, you haven't happened to see Muscle Man or High-Five Ghost around, haven't you?" The yeti shook his head no as Benson let out a sigh of frustration. "Right. Well then, I'll see you later."

Benson then headed into the house as he glanced over the kitchen. He was surprised to see that it was free of raccoons or blue jays, and that the sink wasn't filled up to the ceiling with dirty dishes. There were some recently washed plates and mugs on the drying rack which obviously meant someone was in the kitchen earlier. But other than that, it was pretty clean. The gumball machine was decently shocked at this scene since he was so used to the messy room with food all over the counter, and dirty dishes galore. Benson walked up the stairs towards his room. It was the only one with a computer, so he was used to seeing unwanted visitors. And yet again, no mess can be seen to the naked eye. Benson nervously walked towards his desk, suspecting that sooner or later, one of the pair of drill bits he hired would pop out of nowhere and pull a prank only eight year olds would find funny. (At least, that's what Benson thought.) Feeling that a weight was just taken off his shoulders, Benson was relieved that he could just sit down and check his email without any stupid distractions.

Just as he was about to sign into his email account, a lollipop headed man with a curly white mustache walked into his room letting out a faint yawn, The man was wearing blue striped pajamas, complete with a matching nightcap and blue fuzzy slippers. This man was Pops, the wealthy owner and patron of the public park. He was considered a very jolly soul, with that natural naïveté a small child had. Pops said with a very peppy tone. "Good morning to you, Benson. Checking your virtual mailbox today, I see?" Pops had a very happy smile on his face. "Yeah Pops, just checking for anything important." Benson replied with a more serious tone. The gumball machine was rustling through his inbox, completely awestruck by the spam that filled it up. One of these messages was an advertisement that read: "Need a couple of things bigger in your life? Click Here" Benson just stared at it, and placed it in a folder for later "investigation." The gumball machined scrolled down his inbox as Pops chirped in and asked "I say, Benson, what do you call that?" Pops was pointing towards a link that read "Private" "Oh, that?" Benson replied. "That's just my private folder. It's where I keep all my important junk. Nothing special, really." Pops then shook his head in a contradicting fashion, later stating "No, no, Benson. Not that, THAT." Benson then saw that Pops was really pointing to a headset that was hanging near the computer monitor. "Oh, that's just a headset" Benson told the curious man. Pops then reached out and grabbed the headset with a very fascinated look on his face. He then proceeded with placing them on his giant head while giggling uncontrollably. Benson just rolled his eyes at this, resuming his checking of his inbox. As he was scrolling down his inbox, something caught his eye. It was an email labeled: "Important Notification". "What the H is this…"

**Well, that's Chapter 2 for ya! I'm sorry that I took so long, but I was busy with more pressing matters to deal with (i.e: Homework and watching Hetalia) Again, leave a review, point out a flaw, anything helps. I gotta go, see ya.**

**P.S: Oh yeah, I forgot to mention! Each chapter will be shifting from character to character. It's something I'm trying out to get everyone's perspective without having to reserve to first person point-of-view. I dunno, I don't really like it, so bear with me. See you guys soon.**

**-Mr. Parodious**


	3. Am I in Love?

**Hey everybody, it's Mr. Parodious here! I've finally decided to start working on part 3 of my fanfic. I've been quite busy with some other pressing matters such as finals. Well, I hope this'll make up for that lack of updates. By the way, thanks to everyone who is following my story, and have left me feedback. It really does help and inspire someone to write, especially if said writer is in a state of writer's block. Enjoy the story.**

**EDIT: I noticed there were dozens of grammatical errors in the original post, so I took the liberty upon myself to correct said errors. I also added on a couple of sensory details and other stuff to make the story clearer. Enjoy.**

"Can't sleep…I'll get in trouble... Can't sleep...I better not... sleep…

Better not… sleep….

Sleep... sleep...sle..e... ep..

…

…

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz….

…

…

…"

"…RIGBY!"

The little raccoon was broken from his trance. He was slowly loosing his ability to stay awake. But how? If anyone ever met Rigby, they would know his about his legendary talent to keep his eyes open till the sun rises. Naturally he sleeps through out the day, but hey, with a cup of joe, and a couple lumps of sugar, he was ready for anything any jerk was willing to throw at him. (And then some.)

But not today. Just not today. In fact, when he regained full conciseness, he realized that he was spraying himself with oil. Rigby just looked at his paw holding the oilcan, pouring it on his head. He drunkenly looked at the thick, black, liquid pouring on his snout, shrugging it off, as he walked up towards Skips. "Yo Skips, you need anything?" the raccoon asked his fellow employee, drowsily with the thick black liquid dripping on his snout. "You're wastin' my good oil." gruffly responded Skips as he kept a sharp eye on the red lawnmower. The lawnmower was spilling out oil all over the floor, due to the negligence of a certain nocturnal vermin. "Rigby..." Skips said in a quiet, but enraged tone. "...did you make sure to put a bucket under the mower BEFORE opening the oil cylinder?" "Huh... oh uhhh...whoops, sorry Skips, kinda slipped my mind" the sleepy raccoon answered the jean-trotting anthropomorphic yeti. Skips' face began to glow a faint red, kind of like how Benson would glow whenever he was really peeved. However, remembering his standards, Skips took a deep breath, relaxing himself.

As soon as he exhaled, the yeti's face returned to it's normal, peach like color. Skips then proceeded to grab a spare mop in the corner of the garage, and hand it towards the small raccoon. "Here," Skips scolded as Rigby weakly grabbed the mop, "make yourself useful and clean up that spill. I'm gonna see if I have enough new oil for the mower. Don't try to do anything else, OK?" "Got it, Skips. You can..." before he can finish his sentence, Rigby paused to stretch and yawn, and he soon resumed his statement. "...count on me." The drowsy raccoon began to mop up the spill, forgetting that you need strong, concentrated soap in order to successfully clean up an oil spill. In fact, all Rigby was really doing was just spreading the oil around the floor. Looking at the site of this, Skips, the muscular yeti, placed the palm of his hand onto his face, as a sign of embarrassment.

Just as Rigby was "cleaning" up the spill, the garage door opened, revealing a familiar face who was entering into the building. It was Mordecai, the six-foot tall blue jay, and best friend to Rigby. Mordecai glanced around the room, and soon found Rigby mopping the floor, spreading oil around the floor. "Oh Mordecai, you're here. Good" Skips remarked, not letting the blue jay comment on what he saw. The yeti skipped toward a closet that contained a strange assortment of cleaning supplies. There were your typical brooms, dustpans, and mops. And then there was stuff like "Armor Off", which was essentially an extremely corrosive acid that supposed to be used to dissolve any excessive build-up in pipes. Skips reached for a bottle filled with a green liquid. He then tossed it towards Mordecai, who almost dropped it after catching it. "Here, help Rigby out with cleaning that oil spill." Skips instructed while pointing at Rigby, mopping. "I'm almost done with the oil change. Just clean that spill." Mordecai nodded as a sign of confirmation. He walked towards Rigby who, surprise surprise, fell asleep halfway through the job.

The little raccoon was lying down on his stomach, flat on the thick, black, slippery mess. Mordecai rolled his eyes as a sign of annoyance, as he quickly picked up his sleepy, nocturnal friend, shaking him vigorously until he woke up. "AHH!" screamed Rigby after being startled. "Jeez, Mordecai. If you're gonna wake me up, at least do it with style..." the raccoon complained to his friend, as he was placed down by said friend. Mordecai then began to chuckle at Rigby, who was pondering about what he was laughing at. "What's so funny?" he asked Mordecai. "You, dude!" the blue jay said as he continued laughing uncontrollably. "You're like, COVERED in oil, man. You look like a grade-A grease monkey!" After hearing this statement, the raccoon noticed that the oil covers all his arms, body, and snout. Rigby soon covered his face with his tail, trying to hide his embarrassed expression from his best bud.

Mordecai stopped laughing as he reached towards a rag. He put some of the soap from the bottle on the rag, and began to scrub Rigby, trying to get rid of the oil. "Here dude, let me play "mom" for a bit and try to get this stuff off you." the blue jay remarked, with that joking tone that Rigby knew all-too-well. "Stop it, man! Skips is right here y'know?" the cranky raccoon replied. "And what? Let you to walk around the park looking like an oily weasel?" Mordecai sarcastically responded. In return, the small raccoon let out a very quiet, "...yes?" Mordecai laughed at the stupid comment his equally stupid friend made. It's moments like this why he remembers why they're friends: "We just are. And that's good enough" Mordecai thought. " O.K, you're all set. Now to just dry you off." The blue jay reached for another dry cloth, and cleaned up every last drop of oil on Rigby's fur. "There." Skips interrupted the small talk between the two friends. "The lawnmower's all done. I wish I could say that about that oil spill." the yeti said in an irritated fashion. The two friends soon picked up the message their fellow co-worker was giving them, and began to clean the spill with soap and mop in hands.

As they finished cleaning the oil spill, Mordecai and Rigby soon set their tools down, as they sat down for a well-deserved break. Skips also sat down, as he wiped his hands on a red cloth that he previously used for golf cart maintenance. "Sooo... you need us to do anything else, Skips?" Rigby asked his co-worker. The yeti shook his head, simply replying "Just don't get anywhere near any more oil." He said, sporting a faint grin on his face. Mordecai chuckled as a response to this snarly remark.

Before Rigby could respond to said comment, Benson walked into the garage, with Pops next to his side. The raccoon noticed something strange about them. Benson looked like he had one of those creepy masks that those opera dudes had on. Blank, as if he was in shock. And Pops wasn't looking any better. He had his eyes closed, complete with a small frown, while clinging onto Benson's metal arm. "Mordecai...Mordecai" the raccoon called to his friend, trying to catch his attention. The blue jay soon bent down to Rigby's height as Rigby whispered to him. "Dude, what's up with Benson? He looks so... pale." "SHHH!" The blue jay shushed his friend. "Do you want him to hear you?" Mordecai soon stood strait, as Benson called him out. "Mordecai, Rigby..." the gum-ball machine addressed the two anamorphic groundskeepers, "You two should take your break early today." he said with that blank facial expression he wore. "O..okay, dude." Rigby responded nervously, backing up towards the exit. It was obvious that something serious was cooking, and he wanted no part of it whatsoever. Mordecai soon began to back up towards the exit, holding up his talon-like feathers as a sign of wanting space, while holding a rag he previously used to dry off Rigby. "W..We'll just be on o..our way then. S..ssee ya!" the blue jay stuttered, as he rushed out of the room. He grabbed Rigby by his paw, and fled out as soon as possible.

Outside of the garage, Mordecai tried to catch his breath as Rigby sat on his rear, beginning to look droopy and tired as he did in the morning. "So Mordecai, since we're technically on break, what do you wanna do?" the raccoon asked as a little bit of snot came down from his nose. The blue jay noticed the snot dripping down, and responded in disgust. "Aughh, sick dude. Here man," Mordecai said while handing his friend the rag he was holding. "Blow your nose on this. At least try to keep yourself clean." The raccoon did as he was told, covering his face as he tidied himself off. Rigby once again asked his friend about their plans for their pre-matured break, in which Mordecai replied: "I dunno. Wanna go to the coffee shop down the street?"

It was no surprise that Mordecai wanted to go to that coffee shop he always stopped by everyday. If he didn't go during his break, it was after work hours. If it wasn't after work hours, it was during the weekend. And if he didn't go during the weekend, he went on his break. To any other person, the reason why the tall blue jay went to this shop would be that it serves great coffee. Of course, no one knew Mordecai better than his own best friend, Rigby, and honestly, the coffee served there is okay, but it wasn't anything special to want to visit the shop every single day. No, in actuality Mordecai was in love with the counter girl, Margaret, an equally tall red cardinal, and every time Mordecai would go to the coffee shop, he'd try to ask the counter girl out for a date. And every time the blue jay would go to said coffee shop, his raccoon friend was always dragged along with him. The worst part about all of this nonsense is that Mordecai wouldn't even have the guts to ask Margaret out! No, instead he would chicken out at the last second, and would try to digress to some stupid thing that pops up in his head. "Uhhh... Rigby?" Mordecai asked his pondering pal. "Do you want to go with me?" Hastily, Rigby responded "Yeah, sure. But you're buying." The blue jay just smiled at his raccoon friend's attempt at being factitious, and gestured towards the coffee shop. Reluctantly, Rigby got up from his resting spot, and walked sluggishly towards his best friend.

The day was getting kind of chilly, so the two groundskeepers grabbed a couple of earmuffs and scarves to keep themselves warm. Once they entered the coffee shop, Mordecai and Rigby approached the register, waiting for a familiar face to greet them and take their order. The coffee shop's interior wasn't any special. It had decent lighting, the furniture looked nice and felt cozy, and the TV in the shop was playing what appears to be a concert, only the band members were wearing strange 80's future like clothing. Margaret, who was wearing her mandatory uniform, soon came out from the kitchen, and when she noticed the duo, her face began to glow with joy. "Oh hi Mordecai, hi Rigby. What can I get for you guys?" the cardinal said in a very peppy tone. Mordecai was so awestruck that Margaret said hi to him first, that he froze right on the spot, ignoring all other background noise. Rigby sighed, and responded to the counter girl "Two cups of coffee, a salad, and fries please." Margaret punched in a couple of keys into the cash register, and out printed a receipt. "That'll be six dollars and fifty cents, please." Margaret said to the little raccoon. Rigby soon replied in an agitated tone, "Oh, I'm not paying. That'd my best bud, Mordecai here. Ain't that right, Mordo?" As he finished speaking, Rigby elbowed his friend as a sign of attention, trying to get the blue jay out of his trance. Mordecai soon snapped out of his frozen state, and reached into his "pockets" or wherever he held all his stuff in, and he pulled out a five-dollar bill, along with six quarters. He reached out his trembling arm towards the counter girl, giving her the money. "Oh, alright then, thanks." Margaret said with a hint of nervousness. "Well, let me sit you guys down. Your orders should be ready in a bit." "That's cool" the small raccoon replied with a yawn, while stretching his arms. The blue jay on Rigby's left however, nervously nodded his head as they both walked towards a table, where Margaret, showing off her business etiquette, pulled back the chairs for her two customers.

A couple of minutes have passed, and the two friends have been enjoying themselves, while watching the strange concert on the TV. Mordecai barely touched his salad, feeling full after a couple of bites from it. Rigby wondered, "How could Mordecai eat so little, yet feel SO full? And he calls me unnatural." As he was pondering over this topic, the little raccoon ate his platter of fries. Rigby also noticed that he had satisfied his hunger, but he ate less than half of the platter. "Gee… that's weird. Why am I not as hungry as usual?" Mordecai interrupted his friend's "intellectual quest" by asking what time was it. "Don't ask me, dude. I don't wear a watch." Rigby responded as he held up one of his arms, and then using the other to point towards his wrist, confirming that he wasn't wearing a watch. The blue jay, then grunts in frustration. "Man," Mordecai moaned towards his nocturnal friend "How come we, like, NEVER have anything expensive? I mean, we're so broke all the time. What're we suppose to do?" Rigby replied to his aggravated, avail friend, "Dude, we can just check the clock on that wall over there." Mordecai was about to call out his friend, saying that he was lying, until he noticed that there really was a clock hanging from the wall Rigby was referring to. The clock's short hand was pointing towards twelfth Roman numeral, and the longer hand pointed around the ninth Roman numeral. The time was 12:45. "Great. Now I'm turning stupid" the blue jay stated in embarrassment, noticing that his friend was chuckling at his misconception. "Heh, now I know what being you feels like, Rigby." Mordecai said slyly to Rigby, whose chuckle began to die out, and was instead replaced with a little moan.

"I think today's gonna be the day." Mordecai proudly stated. "Today, I finally ask out Margaret to a date," Rigby raised his eyebrow as a sign of doubt. He then sternly said to his exited blue jay friend, "Gee Mordecai, you mean like that other day where you said you were gonna ask her out, and instead you spilled coffee all over the floor, freezing up as usual?" The blue jay wasn't the least bit bothered by this malicious statement, and instead responded with a confident smile. "No way, dude." he said, "This time, I'm actually prepared. Check it." Mordecai smugly stated, pulling out a pair of tickets. They were labeled for admittance to a 8:30 PM showing of Zombie Dinner Party, a favorite movie of both Mordecai and Rigby. The raccoon just looked at the tickets in confusion, stating, "I don't see how these would help you." "Of course you wouldn't" Mordecai responded with the same smug tone he had earlier. "Let's just say these babies are gonna be my _ticket_ to victory. Get it?" he said while sporting a toothy grin. Rigby just nodded his head, in shear disappointment from the terrible pun. "Just go ask her already, man. Go get the rejection over with..." Mordecai just stood from the table, arms crossed, and wearing that confident grin of his, as he walked towards Margaret, ready to ask her out to a date.

Rigby just stayed seated near the table, looking over his friend's attempt at asking a girl out to a date. Mordecai called Margaret out, while leaning against the counter. When the cardinal turned around to see her unintentional hopeless suitor, Mordecai, froze up a bit, and began to sweat. "Look at him," thought Rigby as he watched the scene played out. "Freezing up as usual. What's wrong with him? Is it really that hard for him to talk to girls? I mean, he always talks to me all the time, and isn't talking to girls just like talking to guys only, y'know, talking with a girl?" The raccoon soon stared down to his coffee, seeing to his reflection. He heard a faint squeal of excitement, and then began to look for it's origin. The squeal came from Mordecai, of all people, who appeared to be very happy with himself. Margaret was also looking quite glad too, but soon the slight smile she was sporting drooped down as she told the blue jay something that came up to her mind. As he heard what Margaret was saying, Mordecai began to look glummer and glummer, and almost looked like he was going to cry. Margaret comforted him, by patting him on the back, and told him something that cheered the blue jay up a little more. "I knew it." Rigby thought, "I knew that it was too good to be true. Man, and Mordecai was so eager today, too. Poor guy... WAIT WHAT AM I SAYING?" Rigby kept thinking. "Poor guy? Dude, if he wanted to, Mordecai could ask out any other girl in this room, and he'd probably get a definitive yes! Margaret should be the one feeling bad that she's not gonna be able to spend the night with him. I mean, Mordecai's just so cool sometimes, even if he spent half of his time trying to get a girl that just seems destined not to be his. Mordecai's also so calm... so determined... so strong sometimes..." Before he kept thinking some more, Rigby caught himself thinking something unusual. "Strong? Determined? Calm? What the... What's wrong with me? I've never thought about Mordecai like this before. Then again... have I?" The little raccoon began to tremble, as he reconciled about his childhood. "He's always been there for me... If some bully tried to mess with him, that punk would show up with a black eye... he always got better grades than me... and didn't I used to have one of those childhood crushes on him? And with all of the weird S I always cause nowadays, it's almost always Mordecai and Skips who had to clean up what I messed up. And then this morning, he made me breakfast and everything." The small raccoon stayed silent, slowly realizing what his little brain was trying to say. He may be a bit dim, but at least Rigby used his brain when it came to weird crap like this. It's strange. It wasn't like he was thinking about his friend differently, but something inside the little raccoon was eating him up, like a hole in his stomach. Rigby was a bit weary, scared even, until he finally said to himself quietly, "Am I... Am I in love... with... with.. my best friend?"

Before Rigby could come up with a response to himself, Mordecai soon called out his name, signaling that it was time to head out. Rigby placed a lid on the Styrofoam cup that held his coffee, tightening his scarf as he left the table.. With the warm liquid in his hand, the small raccoon walked, while trembling a bit. Mordecai was smiling, not as brightly as before, but smiling nonetheless. "C'mon dude, I bet Benson's getting all worked up now." the blue jay said jokingly. Before Rigby fully exited the building, Margaret called out to him saying, "Bye Rigby. Take care, OK?" And Rigby responded with a slight smile. "Sure thing, Margaret. Boy, you sure are lucky..." The cardinal froze up, and was about to ask the raccoon what he meant. But Rigby was already gone, leaving Margaret to ponder on her own.

As the two friends walked home, the sun was being covered by gray clouds, that look like they were going to rain any second from now. Rigby asked Mordecai about how did it all turned out. The blue jay's slight smile became a frown as he said, "Margaret already had a date planned with that Angel guy. Pfft, lucky jerk..." As he said this, the blue jay kicked a couple of pebbles, venting his frustration. Rigby responded as he walked along with his best friend. "Told you something she was gonna say no" Mordecai ignored this comeback, knowing he was going to say something along those lines. Mordecai then remembered something he was meaning to ask his friend after they left the coffee shop. "What'd you mean when you told Margaret that she's lucky, dude?"

Rigby remained silent for a couple of seconds. "Why'd he had to ask that? Just why?" the raccoon asked himself. He responded to Mordecai, "Cause she's got someone like you who wants to be with her, man." This was something completely out of the norm for Rigby to say, and his feathered friend was quite literally shocked to hear something like that come out of his mouth. Mordecai didn't let his body show what he was currently feeling, and he began to question Rigby if he was feeling lightheaded, "I'm fine, dude. Really" the raccoon said, roughly, as if he was trying to dodge something. To be honest though, Rigby hasn't been feeling too well since this morning. Was he really sick? Well, sick or not, Rigby wanted to get something off of his chest ever since he started thinking about his... well... "relationship" with his friend. "Mordecai?" Rigby said sounding a bit insecure. "Would you... kiss me.. on the cheek?" If his previous statement didn't shock Mordecai enough, due to Rigby's out-of-the-norm personality today, then this one certainly did. "Uhhh... why do you ask?" The blue jay said uncomfortably. "Oh nothing... just a stupid question..." Rigby replied feeling more unsteady than before. "Just a stupid question..."

**God DAMN! This was a behemoth of a chapter, wasn't it? Well, it's finally done, though. I can at least start Chapter 4 now. If you got any criticisms, point out a grammatical/spelling error, or just plain confused, leave a review and maybe I can clear things up. And yes, I'm introducing MordecaiXRigby, but nothing along the lines of MEGA YAOI HENTAI SLASH!1! Instead, I'll be "experimenting" with some of Rigby's emotions. Don't panic: it certainly wont be any of that "lust" crap, but instead just him reacting and thinking about his friendship with Mordecai. And don't worry, that OC is coming along it's way...just you guys wait... :3**

**-Mr. Parodious**


	4. Forever Pondering

** Oh Kingdom Hearts II and I, how I love both of thou... fucking Agrabah though... oh yeah, right... Chapter 4. Regular Show and all related materials are owned by J.G Quintel and Cartoon Network. Please don't sue me, I'm poor enough already. Enjoy the show.**

**EDIT: HIATUS IS UNNECESARY! How long has it been since I uploaded chapter 3? TOO DAMN LONG, THAT'S HOW LONG! Well, at least I finally finished this, and that's the important thing. See, the reason why I haven't updated my story wasn't just because I was playing Pokemon Black Version all the damn time. Actually, I've been spending time sprucing up my deviantART page. I even uploaded a shit-ton of artwork there for your viewing pleasure. Look up "rptheory1" on deviantART to see my work.**

**Also, concerning the rate of this story, YEEEAAHHH, expect sporadic updates and shit like that. I'd like to thank everyone who has been patient with my slacking, and hopefully, I'll find a balance of uploading artwork and chapters. Alrighty then, enjoy the show. **

A little while before the two groundskeepers went on their early break, their employer, Benson, the anamorphic gumball machine, was sitting in his room, or office, checking his e-mail.

Accompanying him was Pops, the lollipop headed mustachioed man and esteemed owner of the public park. Pops was a very jolly and quaint fellow, who owned trinkets and gadgets from the 1930's. He was absolutely fascinated with modern technology, and saw it as something somewhat extra-terrestrial. Why just today, he found a set of ear-muffs that has wires sticking out. Benson said it was called a "headset". It seems so strange yet so familiar to the lollipop headed man. He just couldn't hold in his giggles of joy.

"Hey Pops," Benson called out to the giggling Pops. "Come here for a sec, this is important." Pops stopped giggling, and set down the head-sets back into their place. He walked toward the gumball machine, whose hands were trembling a bit, as he was holding the computer mouse in one of his hands. "What is it, Benson?" Pops asked curiously, as he bent his knees down a bit. "Read this…" Benson answered, while pointing towards the monitor of the computer. His voice was sort of shaky. On the monitor appeared to be a document of some sorts. The document had bold text at the beginning, and was addressed to him of all people. The lollipop-headed man began to read the document. The document was basically a memo concerning the public park's funds. It was also a "heads-up" of sorts about the upcoming annual taxes that all citizens had to pay. As the lollipop man kept reading the e-mail, he began feeling more and more frightening. Pops' body trembled in shock, shocked about what the e-mail said. It said that the park's funds are at an extremely low level, and that the park was in danger of going through another audit. The memory of the park's previous audit stilled remained fresh in the eccentric man's head, remembering how everything he owned was simply deleted, like an HTML code on a computer.

"Benson…" Pops said as his voice shook in fear. The jitters his body was feeling were completely noticeable to the gumball machine. "…how did the money in the bank disappear?" Pops added to his startled comment. Benson turned around away from his monitor, as he faced the shaking pajama-trotting lollipop headed man. Benson felt terrible for his co-worker. He knows how Pops is incapable to deal with economic situations. The guy would pay people in lollipops for Christ's sake. The gumball machine tried to remember why and how did the money from the bank depleted so rapidly, and what exactly was the money spent on. Benson thought about it for a couple of seconds, and soon, the answer finally reached his head as if a wire was connected into the back of his head, transferring the answer from the source to his brain.

"We had to use the money for repairs to property damages Mordecai and Rigby caused." Benson answered his technical employer. "Property damage?" Pops questioned the gumball machine, "What property damage?" Benson pointed his metallic arm towards a nearby window in his room. Through the window, a freshly made crater could be seen in the middle of the park. There were many children playing games inside the crater, usually slipping and scraping their knees. "Remember yesterday's barbeque?" Benson asked, irritated over the fact that someone could completely overlook something so obvious and blatant such as a crater. "Oh.." Pops responded in shame, remembering the time he and Rigby accidentally blew up a propane tank while trying to set it up for a barbeque. Luckily, the raccoon and lollipop headed man were already far away from the barbeque by the time the tank exploded. Pops stopped reminiscing that embarrassing memory, as he tried to find a solution for the current problem at hand.

"Oooh! Benson, do you think my father would know anything about a situation like this?" The gumball machine was hoping that Pops wouldn't bring up his father, Mr. Mallard. He was a professional businessman, albeit that, but he wasn't such a good "human relations" guy. Mr Mallard views himself as superior from his employees, and he would disassociate himself from most people. He was rich, powerful, wise, and knowledgeable, but he was also selfish, pushy, elitist, and worst of all, Benson's superior. The gumball machine didn't want do it. He didn't want to call his boss and get berated for mistakes he never made. He knew for a fact that Mr. Mallard held Benson accountable for the drill bits he hired, and all of the messes they made. But Benson had no choice. It was either getting an annoying and long-winded speech, or unemployment and life in the slums. "Sure Pops." Benson said, grinding his teeth a bit. "We'll call your father" Pops became ecstatic, enlightened with joy knowing that his father would know the answer to their problem. The gumball machine told Pops to first change out from his pajamas, and that he'll meet Pops in his room, in order to all his father. Pops did as he was told, removing his striped pajamas and placing a fancy looking vest and slacks. He then placed an expensive looking top hat, and opened the door for Benson to enter. The gumball machine then picked up the antique phone hanging on Pops' wall, marked the phone number to Mr. Mallard's estate, and began waiting for the old man to pick up.

Mr. Mallard's estate was an amazing feat of architecture. It was miles away from the city, and was located near the shore. The estate itself was about five stories high, and was made from redwood trees. (The finest trees that Mr. Mallard was willing to purchase) Inside the estate was the man himself, Mr. Mallard. He was reclining in his favorite velvet red chair, as he sat next to the fireplace in his private study. The old man looked somewhat like his son, Pops. Only instead of a smooth, round head with a curly mustache, the man's head resembled a lemon. It was pale yellow and as bumpy like the citrus. The man's personality was also as sour as the citrus his head resembled. He was smoking a pipe, while trying to stay warm by wearing a scarf. A knock came from his private study's door. "Come in." the old man said, with a bitter and slightly angered tone. The door was opened, revealing a butler who was holding a silver platter. Upon the silver platter was a black, old style replica phone, which looked like one of those classic phones that took forever to use. "Phone call for you, sir." The butler said, holding the phone towards Mr. Mallard. The old man grabbed the phone firmly, and began to talk into it.

"Hello? Who is this?" the man bitterly spoke into the phone. On the other side of the line was Pops and Benson, both clutching the antique phone in their hands. "Hello, Papa. It's me, Pops." The lollipop headed man responded to his bitter father in a cheery fashion. After hearing the peppy voice from his soon, Mr. Mallard loosened up his grip on the phone, feeling relieved that it wasn't another pesky telemarketer selling something completely useless. "Ah, Pops my son." The old man said in a more kindly tone, "It has been a while since I've seen you, my boy. Tell me, is there any specific reason why you called me today, or do you just want to say hello to your old man?" Pops then dropped his smile, remembering the reason why he called his father. "Uhh, actually Papa, the park is going through some… uhh…economic problems." Mr. Mallard's temporary friendliness soon ran out, as he stood up from the velvet chair, clutching the phone in his hand so strongly, he almost crushed it. "Economic problems? Like what?" he questioned. "Uhhh… most of the money in the bank is… gone…" Pops said, feeling the seething anger coming from his father's voice. Mr. Mallard began to scowl, making a sour look on his face. He was shaking in rage, but being a gentleman, he held inside his anger, deep into his stomach. "I… see. Pops, is Benson with you right now?" the withered old man asked. Pops responded with a yes, and after being asked to do such, Pops passed the phone to the gumball machine. Benson tried to avoid the phone, knowing his fate was set. Eventually, he grabbed the phone and put it up to the side of his head.

"Hello?" Benson asked in a dry tone into the phone. The old man at the other end of the line finally let out his anger, as he began to berate and insult the gumball machine. "BENSON YOU USELESS BALL-BUCKET!" Mr. Mallard began to shout. "WHAT IS ALL THIS ABOUT 'PROPERTY DAMAGE'THAT POPS HAS BEEN TELLING ME ABOUT!" Benson tried his best to keep his own temper, knowing that it took only a single outburst to wind up unemployed. He then tried to calm down his employer by trying to explain the situation. "Mr. Mallard, please. You have to understand. Most of the damage isn't even my fault; it's mainly from those two employees I've been talking to you about. Y'know, those two slackers Mordecai and Rigby?" "Oh really?" Mr. Mallard instigated, "So it's because of those two lowly peons that I could possibly go bankrupt?" "Pretty much." Benson responded to the writhing old man. "Then WHY haven't you fired them yet?" Once Mr. Mallard rebutted with that question, Benson himself began to ponder why on Earth he hasn't fired the two slackers. They've caused enough property damage to put the park in debt, they've pretty much ignored all of the gumball machine's orders, and they just seem to really get under Benson's skin…err… metallic skin(?) Benson then returned to his conversation with his boss, as Pops sat down on his bed, holding a pillow near his chest. The gumball machine could see the worry and fear in the lollipop-headed man. How Benson wished he could quell those anxieties that filled the heart of his child-like boss. Nevertheless, he had to return to his phone call, as much as he despised to. " I honestly don't know, Mr. Mallard. I just wanted to call you to ask you for some advice. I mean, you should at least know something about how to deal with situations like these..." Mr. Mallard heard this plea, and he began to enjoy it as if the plea was stroking his ego physically. "Oh how I love whenever my subordinates look up to me" the old man thought. Benson, on the other line, was getting impatient. "Well?" he pestered, waiting for a response that would at least help the gumball machine get the park back on it's feet.

"A benefactor." Mr. Mallard said. Benson's eyes widened a bit, and asked I confusion, "What? A benefactor?" "YES, A BENEFACTOR!" the old man strongly responded. "A benefactor is just a rich person who would allow you to access their bank account, hoping that you will give him or her twice the amount of money you use from his or her bank account." "I know what a benefactor is, sir." the gumball machine interrupted Mr. Mallard's definition, feeling that his intelligence was just insulted. "What I meant to say was, how will a 'benefactor' help us get our financial status back on top?" Mr. Mallard cackled as he heard this question. Oh how Benson tried so hard not to hang up the phone. "Surely you jest, my dear ball-bucket." the old man spoke as he let out a couple of chortles. "It's obvious. If you find a person who's stupid enough to let you use their own bank account, use that money to pay the taxes!" "But wait sir, wouldn't we be in debt to that benefactor? I mean, isn't that just solving a debt with another debt?" The gumball machine only felt it was necessary to mention this fundamental flaw. "No, you twit." Mr. Mallard rebutted bitterly, "You just use the money to pay the taxes now, and then pay the benefactor back little by little by raising it through, I don't know, a lemoade stand or something." "Then why don't we just raise the money and forget about the benefactor?" the gumball machine stated in blatant dismay. "DO YOU WANT MY ADVICE OR NOT?" Mr. Mallard screamed at the top of his lungs. "Yeah, but I don't see why..." "OF COURSE YOU DON'T SEE!" the old man yelled out. Benson thought it was best just to let his boss have his tantrum, and try not to butt in in order to not make the situation worse.

Mr. Mallard took a deep breath, and as he exhaled, he let out all of his pent up anger. "Look, just find a moron who's willing enough to lend you some money, pay the taxes, and make up the money whatever way possible. I don't car how you do it, JUST DO IT. UNDERSTAND?" The gumball machine on the other line was pretty much through trying to converse with his boss, and instead, wanted to finish the phone call as fast as possible. "Yes sir. I understand." Benson apathetically answered. Mr. Mallard finished his conversation by bidding Benson "ado", and returned to his leisure activities. Benson then returned to Pops, who was still clutching a pillow near his torso, and told him what Pop's father told him. "Oh , Benson" the lollipop-headed man sadly said to Benson, "Where are we ever going to find someone to lend money from?" "Don't you know any people who might let us borrow some money?" Benson asked with a glimmer of hope. "No. I lived my entire life alone with Papa." Pops said, looking down on to the floor of his room. Benson just couldn't take it anymore. Sure, he wasn't the most considering person in the house, but he didn't want any of his co-workers feeling so sad that they were on the verge of tears. That and he owes so much to Pops for him giving the gumball machine's current position as a manager (with the approval of pops' father, of course.) "Oh. Ummm... sorry Pops. How about we ask Skips?" the gumball machine suggested. Pops looked at Benson with a hint of doubt. "Do you think Skips knows anyone suitable for this position?" The lollipop-headed man asked Benson. He always wondered how Skips was able to know so much about everything. "We might as well try." Lamely responded the gumball machine, as he began to head towards the door. "C'mon." Benson said while facing the door, "It'll be quick. I promise," Pops cried out to Benson to wait, as he got up from his bed, dropping the pillow onto the floor. Instead, Pops clutched onto the cold, metallic arm of the gumball machine, as Benson began to blush a bit due to the lollipop-headed man's attachment. "At least he's not crying…" Benson thought, as he opened the door.

Benson and Pops left the house and headed straight towards the garage that Skips called home. Benson had a very straight and serious face, while Pops, still holding onto the gumball machine's arm, was looking down onto the floor, hoping for the best. The gumball machine then reached out his other arm, and slowly opened the door of the garage. In the garage, was Skips sitting on a crate, while looking and chuckling at something. The something Skips was chuckling at was Rigby reluctantly being cleaned by Mordecai. "Crap." Benson thought as he saw the scene playing out in front of him. "I thought that those two slackers would already be done with the lawnmower. I can't have them learning about the debt, they'll just screw things up more. What to do, what to do…" As those thought circulated Benson's brain, he continued to wear that strait, emotion-less face he used whenever he tried to be serious. Pops wasn't really paying attention to Benson's musings, as he still continued to clutch onto his arm, looking like he was about to cry. Benson overheard some whispers coming from the slacker duo, and he finally knew what to do with the two. "Mordecai, Rigby…" he addressed to the blue jay and raccoon, "You two should take your break early today." After saying this, Benson expected the two slackers to run out of the garage with joy, but instead, the two started to shake and tremble. "O..okay, dude." Rigby stammered as he walked backwards towards the door. "W..We'll just be on o..our way then." Mordecai also stammered following his raccoon friend. "S..ssee ya!" he shouted out of fear. And with that, Mordecai grabbed onto Rigby by his paw, and fled out of the garage as soon as possible.

Benson just looked at his employees' awkward reactions toward the early break, and sighed out of frustration muttering, "…idiots." The gumball machine then turned around to see the jean trotted yeti sitting across him, and began to show a bit more emotion with his face. "Sorry about that, Skips." Benson sincerely apologized to his old friend. "I just needed those two out of the room. Anyway, me an Pops have something to ask you. Right Pops?" he gestured towards the lollipop headed man, trying to get him to stop holding onto the gumball machine's arm. After a couple of shakes of his arm, Benson managed to get Pops to stop holding on to his arm, with Pops responding to Benson, "Oh? Oh. Yes. Right. We do have a question." Pops quietly stated, holding his hands behind his back, continuing to look down with melancholy. Skips raised an eyebrow towards his two co-workers, and waited for them to ask their question. "Alright then" the yeti gruffly said, "Shoot." Benson then began to sweat a bit, probably out of fear. "Well…" the gumball machine began, "before we ask you our question, there's something we have to explain to you." Pops nodded in confirmation, as Skips began to look more confused.

Benson explained everything. He told Skips about the e-mail, the debt, and even Mr. Mallard's proposed solution. Skips seemed to be unaffected by this news, as he looked as calm as ever. Pops, on the other hand, continued to alienate himself by sulking in a corner, complete with a paper bag that was large enough to cover his head. "Ok…" the yeti started to speak, "…so you guys are looking fpr someone stupid enough to let you use there money, right?" "Yeah" Benson said in confirmation. "And you also need to find that person before the park gets in an audit, right?" Skips continued to ask. "Mm hmm." Benson lamely said, again in confirmation. "So what does this have anything to do with me?" Skips insinuated, waiting for an answer. Benson looked around, and even turned around to Pops. As sad as the naïve lollipop-headed man felt, Benson felt even sadder for him. The gumball machine knew what he had to do. "Well Skips, you remember that one day, when I had one too-many drinks at that bar…" "…and I had to carry you all the way back to your apartment?" Skips interrupted his co-worker's monologue. "Yeah. I remember. What about it?" Benson started sweating some more, (which is physically impossible since he's a gumball machine. (OH WOW, NOW I POINT THAT OUT!1!)) as he returned to his monologue. "While you were carrying me, you were telling me a story about this one girl who was really rich, but really got on your nerves." Skips didn't like where this was going. "Yeah. And?" Benson began to look even more nervous, as he continued on with his story. "You said that you got her phone number, in case if anything happened, right?" Skips knew where the conversation was going, and began to lose his cool-headedness. Pops also overheard the story, and as a child would, he began to pay full attention to the situation going on. "No. No. I'm not gonna give you the phone number, Benson. Sorry, but no."

The gumball machine was shocked. Never in his life has Skips reacted so strongly and negatively over something. "Oh, c'mon Skips! The park DEPENDS on someone as filthy rich as that girl. Just give me the phone number!" The yeti continued to defy Benson's pleas, hoping that he would eventually give up. "No. I don't care if it's to save my own life. I'm not calling her up again. IT'S NOT WORTH IT." "SKIPS!" the gumball machine angrily shouted, surprising both Pops AND Skips. Benson's face glowed a bit red, but soon his face returned to it's normal shade, "Look Skips, I know you and that girl haven't exactly shared the best experiences, but you seriously need to consider some of our other needs. You, Me, Pops, Muscle Man, High-Five Ghost, hell, even Mordecai and Rigby will all lose our jobs AND our homes if we get another audit. You're my friend, Skips. But we really need to make that phone call. Please." After Benson was done, Skips closed his eyes and began to ponder over what he was going to do. Pops stood up from his sulking corner, wondering what would be Skip's decision. "Alright Benson," Skips said seriously. "I'll make the call. Just don't say I didn't warn you if something went wrong." Both Benson and Pops smiled, and watched as Skips reached in his pocket and pulled out an old cell phone. He marked down a number, and began talking into the phone. Pops couldn't believe it. Maybe everything was going to be all right. Maybe everything will go back to normal. Skips finished his phone call, and after he hung up the phone, he began to address Benson in a serious tone. "She said she'll come in the afternoon for a quick interview, if that's alright with you." Benson nodded in agreement, and he began to hold Pops hand. Pops began to blush a bit, giggling over the fact that it was usually him who would hold onto Benson's hand. "Jood show." The lollipop-headed man thought, joyfully as usual. "Jolly good show."

**FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUCK YEAH! I'M DONE! Oh boy. And the next chapter's back to Mordecai's perspective. HOORAH Thanks for reading and leave a review if you find a flaw, want to share your opinion, or just stroke my ego. (LOL, I kid) I'll try not to delay Ch. 5 too much, but I don't make any promises. God, it's like I'm fucking Gabe Newell or something. Except I'm not making Half Life 2: Episode 3. I'm just writing some stupid fanfic. Well, take care everyone. And look forward for Ch. 5 .**

**-Mr. Parodious**


	5. AN ANNOUNCEMENT

**NOTICE AS OF NOVEMBER 6th, 2011**

This story is DISCONTINUED due to personal problems with the overall story . Sorry if this causes any inconveniences.

If you are still interested in my works, then by all means, you can read my work in progress, "The Work Shift". It basically contains most of the plot points and concepts from this story, only the overall plot and presentation is completely different.

Ch. 3 of "The Work Shift should be up soon, so bear with me. Thank you for your understanding.

P.S: If you have a personal issue with this decision, then by all means, send me a PM with your grievances and such.


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